Return from the Dead
by cactusnell
Summary: Sherlock needs to be back in London. He finds that he left someone very important there. Implied Sherlolly


Sherlock Holmes, world's only consulting detective, was currently living in a hovel in Vienna. Actually, "hovel" may have been too complimentary a term. But he didn't really care. All he cared about was getting the job done and going home. The job, of course, was tracking down and eliminating the last of James Moriarty's criminal network. It was certainly made easier by the death of the spider at the center of this vicious web, but was nonetheless proving to be an a difficult task. But he had been making steady progress, and the end was surely in sight.

Sherlock had faked his own death, sacrificing his "life" as he knew it to saves the lives of the three people closest to him Three people who, though he may have denied it before the threat, he had since come to know that he loved. John Watson, his dearest friend. Mrs. Martha Hudson, his landlady and surrogate mother. And Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, a man who had seen him through his drug days and given him a purpose with his consulting work at Scotland Yard. His parents and his brother Mycroft had not been threatened. It seems that even James Moriarty had not had the hubris to take on the British government, otherwise known as Mycroft Holmes. The one person he had overlooked was Dr. Molly Hooper, pathologist at St. Bart's hospital. Unfortunately for Moriarty, she was the one person who was capable, and more than willing, to help Sherlock Holmes. When he had asked for her assistance, Sherlock had just come to realize that he trusted her with his life, that she mattered to him. He had, before this, been completely unaware of just how much.

The weeks stretched into months, and the months into a year, then closed in on two years. Mycroft Holmes had been keeping his younger brother apprised of the situation in London, and helping out with his pursuits when possible. In Sherlock's mind, information about the people he had left behind was even more welcome that any assistance Mycroft could provide.

Lestrade had left his wife, again. Sherlock shook his head.

John was distraught, but marshalling on. Sherlock was deeply concerned.

Molly had slapped Sally Donovan in her lab at St. Bart's. Sherlock smiled at this. Mycroft had seen video, but no audio. Evidently, Donovan had been mouthing off, once again, about the now "deceased" freak Sherlock Holmes, and Molly had lashed out. Donovan had left in a rage. Lestrade had held Molly until the sobs stopped wracking her body. This thought disturbed Sherlock. He did not like to think about how deeply his absence would affect her. She did, after all, know he was alive. She had friends. Surely she could take comfort in them.

Mrs. Hudson had been hospitalized for a hip replacement. About time, he thought with a smile.

Weeks passed, and more news was forwarded.

Lestrade was back with his wife. Fool!

John was offered a position as an attending physician at St. Bart's. Sherlock had requested this and Mycroft had arranged it. Perhaps if John and Molly had each other to talk to, their burden of grief would be lightened. John had been the first to tell him of his belief that Molly's affection for him was more than a crush. He believed he could trust his friend to reach out to Molly while he was gone. Also, he had moved out of Baker Street. Mycroft was seeing to it that the flat remained vacant, but not to Mrs. Hudson's financial detriment.

Mrs. Hudson was recovering nicely, but spent most of her time close to home. But she did have lots of visitors, mostly of the male variety. But never John. Molly, even though she had only a passing acquaintance with the elderly woman, dropped by frequently to check on her. They seemed to be getting along well.

Months and months passed, and Mycroft kept his brother informed in a very rudimentary way. Conversations and communications were risky, too risky to indulge in very often.

Lestrade's wife had left him. _There's a twist,_ thought Sherlock.

John had started seeing a woman named Mary Morstan. It seemed serious.

Molly was still in her lab. Despite what Sherlock had hoped, she seldom had contact with John. His duties rarely brought him down to the morgue. Molly, evidently, at least according to Mycroft's agents, had attempted to initiate a closer relationship, but had been politely rebuffed. She often lunched with Lestrade, on days when business brought him to St. Bart's. They were old friends, and had both known Sherlock for years, even before John. Greg Lestrade was a kind man, intelligent even, despite having a blind spot for his wife's infidelities. Sherlock should have known that he would instinctively step in to comfort Molly and share her grief.

More months, more communiques.

Lestrade and his wife had reconciled. Again. _Who couldn't see that coming_!

John had moved in with Mary Morstan. It seemed an engagement was imminent.

Mrs. Hudson was getting out and about more and more, but had seen nothing of John or Lestrade since shortly after Sherlock had left. Lestrade was no shock, but Sherlock continued to be surprised by John's absence. It seems that the small group of people that he had given his "life" for had fallen apart after his departure.

Molly was engaged to a mid-level banking manager named Tom Preston.

Sherlock Holmes had to get home quickly!

It took him a bit longer than he had hoped, but he made it back to London just two years after he had left it in a coffin. The first person Sherlock went to see, after his brother Mycroft, who had, after all, made all the arrangements for his resurrection, was his best friend John Watson. Mycroft had tried to warn him that this might not go as easily as he expected, but Sherlock had shrugged it off. Despite the fact that the months and months of sometimes living like an animal had somehow helped him become more human, Sherlock still had definite problems with how humans dealt with sentiment. He had taken the punches John had thrown without putting up a defense. He knew on some level that he deserved them. John's girlfriend Mary had assured him that everything would work out, but he was beginning to have doubts. Perhaps they were not the people he thought they were.

The next person he had to see "his" pathologist. He appeared to her as she stood in front of her locker, preparing to leave work. She first caught a glimpse of him in the mirror hanging on the inside of her open locker door. Molly turned quickly to face him, smiling broadly. But she didn't leap into his arms, as he'd expected. Or hoped. When she spoke, it wasn't with a stammer. She had asked him if he'd spoken to John, but the answer was made obvious by the bruise on his face. When he left her, he was a little less happy to be home.

He broke the news of his return to very cautiously, and held her close when she cried, moved by her happiness to see him.

Greg Lestrade took it rather well, hurling an epithet at him before pulling him in for a jovial bearhug, which Sherlock eventually returned, remembering his kindness to Molly during his absence. But he couldn't resist teasing him by pretending not to remember his name.

Sherlock tried to regain a sense of normalcy, but was failing miserably. John still wasn't speaking to him, although he had apologized to Mrs. Hudson for seemingly abandoning her in their shared grief. Sherlock spent the day on a case with Molly, studying her, trying to find out if she was truly happy without him. He had always known that she fancied him. Practically everyone had. But John, and even Greg, had warned him to treat her gently, the the crush was much more than a crush, and her feelings for him were much deeper than he suspected. He had only come to believe them when she risked her job, her reputation, her freedom, and even her life to assist him. He always chided people that they saw, but didn't observe. It turned out the he observed but didn't see. But Molly did. She saw him, as he was, who he was. And she loved him anyway. And from that time forward, he saw Molly Hooper. He saw her in his dreams as he slept rough in unsavory locations all over Europe. He saw her in his mind palace when he retreated there for comfort and respite. And now he could see her in reality. And he loved her, not in spite of who she was, but because of who she was.

It only took the small matter of saving John from a bonfire to get him talking to him again. Mary had helped, both with the bonfire bit and the talking bit. Sherlock had apologized again. And again. They were best friends. But Sherlock's hackles rose when John, in passing, made a slightly disparaging remark about Molly keeping the secret from him. Sherlock once again explained the sacrifices she had made for him. John shrugged. She could have lost her job, her life, even. And she did it all because Sherlock had asked for her help in saving their lives.

"She did it because she loved me, John. Wasn't it you who warned me to be gentle with her feelings, because she truly loved me?"

John was beginning to feel a little uneasy. "But she could have told me, Sherlock. I would have understood."

"And when could she have told you, John. You knew she loved me. You knew she must have been grieving. Even though she was aware that I was alive, she had no idea when, or even if, I would return. I told her the odds were against me. I hoped that she would be there for you. And that you would be there for her. She tried, didn't she, John? But you didn't. You didn't try for Mrs. Hudson, either." Sherlock sighed sadly. "We all make decisions we have to live with. All I can do is apologize for any pain my decisions have caused you. But I will not apologize for Molly!"

And John looked at his best friend and knew something had indeed changed about Sherlock Holmes. It seemed to him that Sherlock was showing more empathy, more caring, than he, himself, had for all these past months. He had found Mary, and had left the others behind, perhaps not wishing to remind himself of their mutual grief. Not knowing that they, the women especially, would see this as an additional loss in their lives.

"You'll never have to apologize for Molly, Sherlock. Not to me. Not to anyone. I should apologize to her." John saw the tension leave Sherlock's eyes. "I heard through the grapevine at the hospital that's she's engaged. Planning on doing something about that, mate?" And John winked.

"John if I can take down the world's only consulting criminal, and his international network of co-conspirators, one mid-level banking manager named Tom shouldn't cause me much of a problem," Sherlock winked back. "And it will take me considerably less than two years!"


End file.
